A Good Man is Easy to Kill
by andthenyouwokeup
Summary: [CHAPTER 2 UP!] Letting people in on your weaknesses only provokes them to use them against you. RnR!
1. Chapter 1: When Your Mind Betrays You

TITLE: A Good Man is Easy to Kill  
AUTHOR: Ash  
RATING: T perhaps more later on depending on the mood I'm in.  
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potternot mine.  
SUMMARY:Surprise Pairing! "Maybe we'll pass a suit of armor on the way to the Infirmary and I can impale you on its sword." Because I love Ron, and while he is a main character, he's still under appreciated.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I started this two months ago and I just figured out where I'm going with it...doesn't that feel great:sigh: Well I don't really want to give too much away because, as displayed in the summary, it's just a surprise pairing, hopefully one you love or can grow to love as I have. Thanks to Polaris25 for introducing me to this ship, I'll shower more praise when it's all more apparent.

On to the story? Enjoy!

* * *

Ron Weasley was sitting up in bed and peeking through his bed curtains into a crack in the ones of his best friend, Harry Potter.

_'The famous Harry Potter, the bloody boy who lived,'_ Ron furrowed his brow. _'Where did that come from?'_

Ron had been Harry's best friend since they were both eleven and high-voiced; he'd never felt any kind of jealousy like that before...

Okay, so maybe he had...quite a bit actually...but he always just decided that Harry was his best friend, he'd had a hard life, and he wanted him to be happy. But no thoughts of joy seemed to surface.

_'Why couldn't Voldemort kill him?'_ Ron thought, _'Just because of that bloody prophecy? That's ridiculous. I'll bet I could kill him right now--'_

Ron sat up.

His eyes widened in shock and he looked down at his hands.

_'I didn't just think that.'_

But he did.

For the next week Ron had dreams of murdering his best friend. Holding a pillow over his face and smothering him, knocking him off his broom at quidditch practice, poisoning his pumpkin juice at dinner... And each morning he'd wake up to Harry's smiling face, shaking him and telling him to shower and dress for breakfast.

Ron had a dilemma.

On the ninth day when Harry drowned at the hands, or the tentacles as it were, of the Giant Squid after Ron threw him in the lake, he knew he needed help.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

It was the first snow of the season and everyone was outside playing except for Hermione who was curled up with a book on one of the couches in the Gryffindor's common room. Ron's mind had decided on the most cheerful time of the year to decide to kill Harry.

"I was wondering what you could tell me about dreams..."

Hermione closed her book. "What about them? What kind?"

"Oh, just the normal kind..." Not the kind that make me a snake slithering around the Ministry, trying to kill my dad...

_'Why does everything always come back to Harry?'_

"Well, dreams originate from the frontal lobe, where your emotions are regulated...they say dreams help solve unresolved conflicts, reduce emotional tension, and unlock hidden parts of the personality. You could love someone and not even know it..."

Or hate.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Anytime, Ron."

_'Great. I hate my best friend, and I don't even know why!'_

"Ron! Hermione!"

And there Harry stood at the door, drenched in snow, with Ginny at his side.

_'Maybe that's why I hate him...because he's dating my sister.'_

"Snow, guys! Come outside! Enjoy yourselves!"

"Oh, alright..." Hermione stood, "Coming Ron?"

"Erm...no...I've got...potions I haven't finished. You go ahead."

Ron ran up to the seventh year boys' dormitory and collapsed on his bed. He hadn't lied, he did have potions to do, he hardly ever did it, but to keep himself from being a murderer _and_ a liar, he cracked open his book and began reading chapter eight. He was asleep within minutes.

But it didn't last long, Ron was being woken up soon after, by the same person he was in the process of drowning in the huge tub in the prefect's bathroom.

"Ron, what's wrong with you? You've missed dinner!"

Ron jolted up, his dream was still so fresh in his mind that he reached out and wrapped his hands around Harry's neck and began to strangle him. He started moving him back and pushed him down on his bed so he was covering him, over-powering him.

_'The life of the great Harry Potter literally in my hands.'_

Harry began to gurgle and gag incoherently as his face flashed an angry red and a fat vein from his temple became steadily more prominent.

"...ggon! Gon! grron! RON!"

A flying limb hit Ron in the gut, hard enough to paralyze him for a moment. Harry sat up, "What is wrong with you!"

Seeming to have finally snapped out of it, Ron was sitting up and looking down at his hands again. "I don't know," he whispered.

"You do realize you just tried to kill me, don't you!"

"I wasn't...that wasn't what I was doing."

"You were about to throttle me Ron!" Harry stood up and started rubbing the back of his neck. "You avoid me all week and then _attack_--"

"I did not attack you!" Ron was standing now and made his way to the door. "I was having a dream and then...you woke me up and...I was confused. I'm sorry, Harry!"

And he was sorry, Ron was incredibly sorry. He'd been sorry all week for having these dreams. Wanting to kill your best friend is definitely not normal...your famous best friend who gets all the attention and praise. No, Ron didn't want him dead at all.

Harry was still eyeing Ron cautiously and spoke slowly when he said, "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Maybe I will," Ron said. His fingers graced the doorknob and he heard Harry sigh behind him.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

_'Yes, come with me, Harry. Maybe we'll pass a suit of armor on the way to the Infirmary and I can impale you on its sword.'_

"No Harry it's alright...I'm alright. I'll see you later."

And off Ron went, wishing silently all the way through the cold, dark corridors that Madam Pomfrey had one hell of a Dreamless Draught handy.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In conclusion, how much do we love Ron? SO MUCH! Review please! 


	2. Chapter 2: When All Others Scorn You

TITLE: A Good Man is Easy to Kill  
AUTHOR: Ash  
RATING: T perhaps more later on depending on the mood I'm in.  
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter equals not mine.  
SUMMARY: Letting people in on your weaknesses only provokes them to use them against you. RnR! 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Woo you get to find out who that mystery girl is! I'm iffy about this chapter I hope everyone likes it. Review please!

Pansy Parkinson was not an emotional girl. So for her to be sitting on the floor of the Slytherin Girls' Washroom, hugging a toilet with no obvious intent to let go, and sobbing uncontrollably, well, it was most definitely out of character.

"Pansy? Can I come in and grab something?"

"Um," Pansy said, wiping her eyes and standing up slowly, "yeah, sure…I just—oh!"

Daphne Greengrass was already in the room and rummaging around in the towel closet, pretending to look for something, successfully startling a numb Pansy who was just emerging from a stall for the first time since she woke up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—hey, are you okay?"

Pansy made her way to the sink to brush the taste of vomit from her mouth. She would have loved to answer the question honestly, to finally tell someone, 'You know what? I'm not okay. Something's wrong with me and I'm so glad I have some one to talk to!' But the hungry look in Daphne's eyes proved she only wanted to be in the know, to have a bit of gossip to call her own. Plus, Pansy wasn't stupid; She knew letting people in on your weaknesses only provoked them to use them against you.

"I'm fine," she said after she spit, and went into the Seventh Year Girls' dormitory to change, classes started in fifteen minutes.

She'd made it to Ancient Runes only a couple minutes late

* * *

"Pansy?" She turned. Draco. She sped her strides and tried to make it to the Girl's Bathroom so he could assume she just hadn't heard him, not that she was dreading even a glance at him. "Pansy!" She was too late, he was tugging on her arm.

"Hello, Draco."

"Hello…" He let go of her and straightened up. "Daphne Greengrass was saying at breakfast this morning that she saw you in the bathroom, and—"

"I don't think she knows what she saw, what are you getting at?"

He looked down, "Are you alright?" he barely mumbled.

He looked as if he genuinely wanted to know, as if the knowledge of her in pain, crying, was tearing him apart. He seemed made of glass. Pansy decided she hated him like this, so she decided to tell him. She yanked him into the bathroom and started to pace. Pacing lead to shaking, shaking lead to hysterics, and hysterics lead to crying, then sobbing.

"God, Pansy, what is it?" he asked, not moving toward her.

"I'm late!"

His face took on one of immediately confusion then slow, tentative realization. "You what?"

"I'm pregnant, Draco."

The words echoed off the tiled floor and cinderblock walls.

Once it'd gotten out, she couldn't hold it in any longer. She told him everything, "I'm pregnant and it's yours, it could only be yours. I just don't know what to do, and I'm so scared, I just…I don't know what to do and…" She threw herself to him and she imagined him telling her everything would be okay and that his father would handle it, and embracing her as affectionately as he knew how.

But he didn't do any of these things. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her several times before shoving her to the ground. "That's not true! You're not and it's not mine!"

"Draco, you're the only one I've ever been with in that way!"

"No! No! It's not mine! You've been with plenty other guys, they all talk about it!"

"They're lying!" Her throat hurt. She must be screaming, she hadn't noticed.

"They are not! You're as common a whore as they come, and you're trying to pin this on me! Well, it's not going to work Parkinson." And he turned on his heels to leave.

She was frantic. She jumped across the floor to grab him by the ankles, to keep him from leaving her. He shook her off and placed a locking charm on the bathroom door.

* * *

An hour later Pansy was in the Infirmary holding an ice pack to her slowly swelling black eye and a cloth to her split lip.

"You're alright, dear." Oh, how she hated concern. "How did this happen?"

"The staircase changed on me as I was running to class and I took a spill into the railing is all."

"Quite a spill, I suppose." Even more she hated skepticism.

"Yes, it was, but I'm fine now save for a few cuts and bumps, so I'll be leaving." She stood from her cot but wobbled with every step she took to straighten herself.

Madam Pomfrey caught her the second time she'd almost fallen and ushered her back to bed. "I think I'll keep you here over night—"

"Really I'm okay, and I'd much rather sleep in my own bed—"

"I insist that—"

"I'm fine!!" And then she promptly fainted, but two strong arms were there to catch her and keep her from colliding with the floor when she did.

* * *

Bad Draco! Well, I guess it is what he does...Review please!

Ash


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